


Bumblethwacker, Broken Nose and the Wizard's Finger

by Fluffyllama (Llama)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Beer, Dirty Talk, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 08:01:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Fluffyllama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romance (of sorts) featuring three ales, two lonely men, and one interfering big brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bumblethwacker, Broken Nose and the Wizard's Finger

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Delphi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/gifts).



> Written for atdelphi for Snapely Holidays 2011.
> 
> Bumblethwacker is real, though I have no idea what it tastes like. Broken Nose is made up, by me and probably by Aberforth as well. Wizard's Finger is a magical counterpart to Bishop's Finger, when it's not busy being innuendo.
> 
> Contains dirty talk, references to voyeurism, improper use and abuse of beer, object insertion, blink-and-you'll-miss-it spanking

**Not the Beginning**  
 _Hogsmeade, Christmas 1990_

Albus Dumbledore was a meddling old fool.

It wasn't the first time Aberforth had thought it and it certainly wouldn't be the last. As far as interfering gall went, though, this just about put the tin lid on it. From his bedroom window, tight under the eaves of the Hog's Head Tavern, he could see a black-clad figure stride purposefully down the lane to the village. Even with flurries of snow still falling across the dazzling landscape, he could trace the imprint of bloody Albus's interfering ways all the way back to Hogwarts.

Aberforth tapped his wand on the window, and the glass swirled before his eyes until he was squinting into a revolving, distorted landscape. The view settled to a gentle swaying motion as it closed in on the distant figure, and he could distinguish a familiar face set in a grimace against the cold wind. In his hands the man seemed to be carrying a small box.

A loud _thud_ against the glass startled him, and Aberforth gazed into an owl's huge hazel eye, both of them blinking in confusion. The owl hooted once and took off, leaving Aberforth dizzy. He straightened up and winced; his back really wasn't what it used to be.

Aberforth unlatched the window in case the owl came back, and pushed it open wide. Without the aid of the magnifying bubble still spinning merrily in the thick glass pane, the dark figure was just a speck in the distance.

Aberforth reckoned it'd be better if it stayed that way.

 

* * *

 

Each day in the Hog's Head was much like the last. It was one of the things Aberforth liked about it.

Morning, or whenever he awoke: rise, tend the goats, eat breakfast, set up the bar, unlock the door. Evening, or whenever he'd had enough: heave the straggling drunks out, lock up, throw fresh sawdust down, shut the goats in, go to bed. It left him plenty of time to enjoy the other things he liked about his job.

Drinking, for one. There was very little Aberforth didn't know about ales and brewing. Advising on flavours and even naming the odd ale here and there had already earned him more galleons than he had any use for, so it had become his habit over the years to take payment in kind.

Aberforth's collection of odd ales, Muggle and magical brews alike, weren't in great demand from anyone but himself, but he obtained a certain satisfaction from occasionally recommending a well-known thief try a 'Shady Snifter', or handing over a 'Rogue's Ruin' to a dishonest trader. His favourite by a long way were the random toffs who wandered in by accident or came to 'experience the real character of the old place, don't you know, haha'. Once they'd _experienced_ a fine old glass of 'Hogswill' (the most aptly named ale Aberforth had yet found given its distinctive dishwater texture and dungy aftertaste), or at least after they glimpsed the genuine olde-worlde toilet facilities, they were usually on their way as though they were being chased by a swarm of Blibbering Humdingers.

Other than that sort, people always had a good reason to come to the Hog's Head. Such patrons might not be welcome in more polite company, or they might want to keep a low profile in Wizarding society. Equally, they might have goods, services, or even secrets to trade. Aberforth liked to observe them all. There was nothing wrong with observing human nature -- there wasn't even anything wrong with judging it, not that Aberforth cared to. He'd never fancied himself in a position to feel superior, not like some.

No, he thought, pulling out a crate from the last delivery, observing was fine. Meddling with it, that was where the problems started.

He was still unpacking dusty bottles of ale onto the shelves when he heard a rattling knock at the door.

"We're closed!" he shouted, but the door swung open. He'd expected nothing less. His brother's dogsbodies were often as bloody-minded as him, and this one had never had much in the way of manners to soften his rough edges.

"And I'm in a hurry," Severus Snape said, scraping his boots off in the doorway and stamping inside. "So will you take this blasted box off me so I can go about my business?"

Aberforth concentrated on counting bottles and not bending enough for his back to pain him. "Saturday," he observed, back to the door and eyes fixed on a label that read 'Wizard's Finger'. There were a few he'd like to serve with one of _those_. "Saturday and _Christmas_."

He could hear Severus tap his feet impatiently in the doorway once more before the door slammed shut with a blast of icy air.

"Fine." Severus's tone said it was anything but fine, and Aberforth allowed himself a smile into his beard. "Now, I've brought you—"

"I know what you've brought." Aberforth rummaged for another bottle. Yes, that was more like it. "That interfering old codger heard about my aches and pains and sent you down here with an Invigoration Draught for me." He turned to the bar and eyed the glower simmering nicely on the other side of the counter. "Did he have you brew it up?"

Judging by Severus's scowl, it seemed he had.

"I don't need anything from Albus," Aberforth grumbled, flipping the cap off the bottle. A strong malty scent with a hint of spices tickled at his nose. That would do nicely. "So tell him to piss off and leave me alone."

Severus's scowl deepened further and his posture stiffened. Aberforth sighed. "Sit down, lad," he said, and reached for a couple of glasses. He wiped them with a clean rag and poured amber liquid from the bottle. "I'm not ungrateful for your efforts."

"Forgive me if I missed your display of gratitude," Severus snapped. "Your thanks must be lodged in my ears along with the snow." He ignored the glass Aberforth pushed at him across the bar, sticking his chin out in a way that was painfully familiar.

"Try it," Aberforth said, and pushed the glass closer to Severus. "You'll like this one."

Severus regarded the liquid with suspicion, and Aberforth was lucky his hand still lay close enough to the bottle to reach it first, or it would have been swept up for inspection. "Hands off," he said. "Try it first."

Muttering something indistinct, Severus sipped at the ale. "Adequate," he said, but he took another sip quickly enough while Aberforth scratched at his beard and waited. "Perhaps more than adequate."

"Told you." Satisfied, Aberforth unhooked the chalkboard from behind the bar and rubbed one of the lines out under 'Speciality Muggle Ales'. His back protested at the effort and his hand was stiff too: the cold and a touch of arthritis most likely. He added _Bumblethwacker_ in a slanted hand to the bottom of the list.

Severus gave a huff of surprise. It might almost have been a laugh if Aberforth didn't know better. "You sell Muggle ales now," he observed, turning the bottle around. "I didn't know."

"Last few years." Aberforth fiddled with the chalk, touching up a letter here and there on the board. His hand slipped and smudged a couple of letters, but never mind. He wiped his hand on his trousers and filled in the gap. "You'd know if you'd been in."

The ensuing silence was awkward, and Aberforth wished he hadn't said anything. It wasn't like they'd been friends when Severus lodged at the inn for those few short weeks; Severus had been no more than a boy, really. _A boy of twenty_ , he remembered Albus saying, in the way that suggested he could say and do so much more if Aberforth persisted in his infatuation.

Ten long years.

"It was impressed on me that I had to be… careful." Severus took a long swallow of ale, and Aberforth finally raised his own glass to match him. "Being seen in the wrong place could have been difficult."

Oh yes, Aberforth had no doubt it would have been tricky. Albus always had an excuse ready when he decided to poke his nose into another wizard's business.

"And now it's not?"

Severus shrugged. It seemed Albus wasn't sharing everything with his lackeys. What a surprise. It didn't look like Severus cared all that much. Near on a decade working for Albus Dumbledore might do that for any man.

"I should go," Severus said. "And… keep the potion." There was a dark glint in his eye that Aberforth had never seen in the younger Severus Snape. Suspicion and anger, yes. Youthful outrage, certainly. But never this. "I'll tell him you threw it at the wall."

A faint warmth glowed briefly in Aberforth that had nothing to do with the glass of Bumblethwacker or any other ale. The lad had kindness in him. Kindness of an odd sort to be sure, but that was only to be expected.

Aberforth scratched at his beard while he thought. "I should send him a token of thanks," he said, and watched Severus lift an eyebrow in surprise. His mouth gave a reluctant twist of amusement when he saw the bottle Aberforth produced from under the bar, however, as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to smile.

"It would be rude not to," Severus agreed. He shook his robes out, sawdust fleeing from the sweep of black cloth and the bottle disappearing into some hidden pocket or fold. "I'll make sure he gets it."

Aberforth examined the gift box while Severus made his retreat, hoping to avoid any awkward goodbyes or silences. It opened easily, and he pulled out a folded piece of paper.

 _For you_ , the note read, in a familiar, flamboyant hand. It had been nestled in beside the potion bottle as if to say 'See, I belong with this', but Aberforth wasn't fooled. Big brother was meddling again.

Aberforth wasn't sure if he was going to let him get away with it until Severus reached for the door handle.

"Don't be a stranger, lad," he called out, and cursed his voice for coming out hoarse and worn. It hadn't quite rusted away from lack of social pleasantries, but it had been sorely overused today by its normal standards. "Plenty more ale where that came from."

Severus looked back at him for a moment, and Aberforth shifted his gaze in turn to the bottle, the glasses, the bar rag, the wall. When nothing happened, he finally risked a glance towards the door. To his relief, Severus inclined his head, just once, and was gone.

 

* * *

 

Aberforth didn’t need to look up to know when Severus came back. When most of your regulars preferred their heads covered and the barman's gaze not to linger on their face, you learned to recognise the particular tap and shuffle of each gait across the floorboards.

Maybe it was something more in this case. There had always been something special about this lad.

"Old sod enjoy his Broken Nose, did he?"

Severus took a long swallow from the glass that slid in front of him. "Rather nutty, I think, was the verdict. Also far more pleasant than the last one, apparently."

Aberforth saw that glint again when their eyes met, just for a brief moment. He buried his smirk in wiping the shelves down, but he doubted he was fooling Severus.

"You can take him a Wizard's Finger this time," he said, pointing to his own drink. "If you like." Albus and his incurable sweet tooth would like its faintly caramel flavour, no doubt, but that couldn't be helped. It was worth it if his big brother was put out by the name for even a moment.

"I brought you another potion," Severus said, and there was a tremor in his hand when he put it down. No gift box this time, Aberforth noted.

"Whatever he wants, he wants it bad." Aberforth watched a flush rise up in Severus's cheeks, but he was still surprised when Severus started fidgeting with his glass.

"This one is from me," he said, and Aberforth stilled. "But yes, he wants—"

Aberforth hushed him with a hand and a sharp glance to the shadowy corners of the tavern.

"Stay for another," he said, and he slid a second bottle onto the bar.

Severus had emptied three bottles of Bumblethwacker before Aberforth locked the door. If this was going to become a habit he was going to have to put in a regular order for the stuff with old Willie.

"Let me guess," he said, sinking onto the stool next to Severus. He took a swig from his bottle before fixing his gaze on Severus. "Information?"

Severus nodded. "Fate of the Wizarding World, he says. The usual."

Aberforth snorted. If he had a knut for every time the fate of the Wizarding World was in the balance he'd own half of Hogsmeade by now.

"And he thinks he can buy my eyes and ears for a potion?" Not that it hadn't been a good potion. He hadn't been able to perch on one of these stools comfortably for a very long time.

"I think you know what he's offering," Severus said. Whether it was the ale or his forwardness that flushed his face red, Aberforth wanted nothing more than to cool it with his hands. He almost lifted them up before he could help it, but Severus's knee bumped against Aberforth's and stayed there.

Not just a gift then. Albus knew what Aberforth wanted, and he'd sent the boy down here to play the tart, bold as you like.

He could have this. He could have the lad-- a man, really, but he'd always be the skinny lad with the wary eyes to Aberforth. He pressed his knee back in return, and watched.

Severus didn't flinch, but he didn't smile either. He didn't give much away. Never had, far as Aberforth could tell. He remembered the tremor running through Severus's long fingers as they placed a potion bottle on the bar, and he sighed.

"There's no need for that. I'll pass on anything I hear, 'course I will. For you mind, not for him and his meddling."

"So you don't want—" Severus started, and there was something like surprise in his voice.

"Oh, I want." Aberforth pulled his knee back regretfully. It was unlikely he could truly feel heat through the layers of clothing between them, but it seemed too hot to bear now he was turning the lad away. "He might be the great and good of the family and me the one they like to forget about, but I'm not the monster Albus thinks. I'm not going to force anyone."

He'd enjoy that idea later tonight instead, he thought, a thrum of pleasure stirring his prick for the first time in a while. Pale wrists lashed to the bedposts. Body bare and stretched out, writhing under his hands. Clipped voice turned dark and needy, begging for release one way or another.

Severus's eyes widened and Aberforth cursed himself for letting his defences down. He knew better than to let thoughts like those stray around someone like Severus. Of course he'd want to know, want to check. He was still a suspicious little bastard.

"Yes," Severus hissed. "Yes." He struck at serpent speed, pushing his way between Aberforth's legs where they fell spread open on the stool. There was more enthusiasm than finesse in the clumsy way Severus's lips clashed against his, but somehow that just made it better. It was as if that green lad of twenty was here again, and about to make one of Aberforth's longest standing fantasies come true.

Perhaps more than one.

He wound his fingers into Severus's hair, twisting and pulling until their lips were dragged apart. Severus was still pressing into him, heavy and hard against his leg.

"Should punish you, shouldn't I?" Aberforth said, his voice hoarse and rough. "Coming down here to seduce respectable barmen. You're no better than a common little tart." Severus gulped, his eyes still fixed on Aberforth's lips. "I should give you what for, that's what I should do."

" _Yes,_ " Severus ground out, and that was enough. That was more than any good man could be asked to resist, and Aberforth had never claimed to be a particularly good man.

The stairs rocked alarmingly under the weight of them both at once, an undignified scramble of spilt beer and heavy breathing halted halfway while Severus leaned against a low beam and helped Aberforth push his way into his robes, his mouth, his thick winter long johns.

"Trouble, you are," Aberforth croaked out when he finally dragged Severus out of his clothes and into the bedroom, tugging him down to his bed under the slanted roof. "Always knew it."

Severus gasped as Aberforth pulled him roughly over his knee. "And you're a dirty old man," he grumbled, "so bloody well do something dirty to me."

Aberforth slapped his bare arse a couple of times to stop him squirming, then a couple more because it didn't work. He rubbed this thumb firmly against the tight pucker, sucked the tip into his mouth and rubbed again. Severus rutted against his legs, wriggling and bucking.

"Keep still," Aberforth grumbled, but his heart wasn't in it. Severus was hard, leaking all over the coarse fabric of Aberforth's trousers, enough that it was rubbing sticky against his thigh. "Still, or I'll tie you down."

The threat might not have worked, but looking at Severus laid out all for him, milk-white wrists bound to the bedposts by rough leather straps, Aberforth had no regrets. He could tan the lad's hide later if he wanted, pull his legs up and give him a proper spanking.

He could do anything that took his fancy.

"Shameless, you are," he breathed, reaching down to tug on Severus's prick. "Such a little slut, giving this up for me as soon as I look at you."

Severus pulled on his bonds, the bed creaking and groaning under the strain. Aberforth reached for his bottle of ale and took a swig, watching him struggle. It was a beautiful sight, one to savour for as long as he could.

"You'll take a finger," he said, and sucked one into his mouth. Severus groaned when he pushed it inside, but it was a good groan. His prick was bouncing obscenely as he swayed and wriggled into the touch, and when Aberforth pushed a second finger in he thought Severus was going to be spurting any minute.

Couldn't have that.

Aberforth splashed the remains of his ale straight from the bottle all over Severus's prick, delighted when the lad jerked upright, or as far as he could with his hands still bound to the headboard. "What the—" he started, but Aberforth ignored him, nuzzled into Severus's groin, all musky and ale-doused; the combination made his head spin. He sucked Severus's prick straight down in one, and there went Severus again, jerking with shock like he'd never had it sucked before.

Maybe he hadn't. The thought made Aberforth suck all the harder, swallowing around the stiff, sticky length until Severus gasped out and Aberforth could taste a new flavour, sharp and strong, trickling down the back of his throat.

"Used to watch you," Aberforth told him, running a soothing hand over Severus's leg, feeling it tremble from the force of his climax. He could say this now, with Severus still trapped in his bed, his fingers buried in the lad's arse at last. He could confess. "Door in that room I gave you, it never did close all the way."

Severus's eyes were slanted shut, sweat drying on his brow. "I know," he murmured. "Used to—used to undress slowly. Thought you were there." He laughed, a weak, drained sound but a laugh all the same. Aberforth felt him clench around his fingers and wished it had been his prick in there. Soon. "Nearly caught my death of cold waiting for you to come in."

Yes, that had been a bad winter too, the worst he could remember until now. Snow on the ground when Severus arrived in the middle of a December night, barely gone when he left, weeks later. Aberforth dug his fingers hard into the muscle of Severus's leg. The hairs were coarse under his fingers, rubbing his palm just the right way. "Albus would have had my balls for that."

"Know that now." Severus's eyes were still closed, lashes dark on his flushed skin. "Another finger."

Aberforth slapped his leg and felt the clench again. "I'll give you another," he said, and slid his slick mouth over the neck of his ale bottle. "I've got just the finger to open you up, my lad." He pressed the Wizard's Finger bottle against his hand, slowly withdrawing as the bottle pushed in, and in.

Severus gasped. It must have been cold, Aberforth supposed. "Tell me that's not—"

"Hush," Aberforth said gently, still easing the bottle inside. "You'll have a prick in that greedy hole soon enough, you little slut. Takes a while to get there at my age."

The bottle slid in easily once the initial resistance was gone, and Severus groaned with every inch when the neck flared wide. "All in now," Aberforth said, unable to take his eyes off it, holding it so Severus's body couldn't push it straight back out. He relaxed his grip, let it pop out an inch or two, and shoved it back in, not quite so gently this time.

"Bastard," Severus spat out, but his prick was almost hard again already.

"Thought about taking you back then," Aberforth said, ignoring him and just fucking him steadily. He made sure the lip of the bottle, ridged and rounded, rubbed against all the right places. He still remembered how to pleasure a boy; Severus would have nothing to complain about. "You don't know— they weren't right, the things I wanted."

Severus arched his back. "Tell me. Tell me what you wanted."

And Aberforth bent his head low, replaced cold glass with hot prick, and spilled all his secrets along with his seed.

 

* * *

 

"I shouldn't have stayed the night," Severus said, pulling his crumpled robes over his head.

Aberforth snorted. "He'd find out anyway. And it wasn't a fit night to be out."

"Hmm." Severus didn't disagree. A mess of black hair appeared from the tangle of black cloth, and he set about straightening both as best he could. "He'll know I'm not doing this for him."

"As long as he gets what he needs, he won't mind the details." Knowing what people wanted most was the secret of Albus's success, Aberforth had always thought. That and being surprisingly competent at pulling people's strings. "What's got the old man's knickers in a twist? You never said."

Severus's smirk said he'd had other things on his mind, but he sat – gingerly -- on the edge of the bed and drew his brows together into a frown.

"Next year, he's expecting—" Severus stopped. "Maybe not expecting. But he's worried things might stir up again. If he's right, we could be in for a rough few years."

"Potter." Aberforth should have guessed. It all made a weird sort of sense now. "Harry Potter."

Severus nodded.

"He'll be keeping you busy then," Aberforth said. "What with teaching, and saving the Wizarding World."

"I'm sure I'll be able to call in for a Bumblethwacker now and again," Severus said slyly. "Perhaps the odd Wizard's Finger too." He finished fastening up his boots and shook his hair off his face. "Did you still want me to take one of those back for Albus?"

"Take him another Broken Nose," Aberforth said. "I have plans for the Wizard's Fingers, and they don't include him."

Severus leaned over for a stubble-rough, stale beer kiss. "I'm very glad to hear it."

 

* * *

 

**Not the End**  
 _Hogsmeade, Christmas 2000_

Aberforth told himself he was a stupid old codger and he wasn't going to think about it this year. Two winters of hope behind him, two springs of disappointment. Enough was enough. Then the first snow of the winter appeared, not just unusually early, but uniquely early by all accounts. As luck would have it when the village was unprepared, it was a heavy one that buried carriages and fences and turned the world outside his window into a blank canvas full of possibilities.

The path down from Hogwarts Castle remained stubbornly unmarked, but that didn't mean anything. _He_ wouldn't want to be seen there; too many difficult questions. It still pained Aberforth to see it, as if every footprint made over those too short years together had belonged to Severus.

At closing time snow was swirling once more outside the door when he went to lock up. Before he knew it Aberforth found himself with chalk in hand, amending the Speciality Ales section.

_Bumblethwacker_

Top of the list, and just writing the name made Aberforth ache in ways that had nothing to do with his ailing back. If this wouldn't tempt Severus back from wherever he'd ended up, nothing would; he wasn't a man to change his tastes when he'd made up his mind. Aberforth had always liked that about him.

_Wizard's Finger_

His own favourite, especially when flavoured with the sweet taste of his lad's skin. He'd missed putting that one on the winter specials for the last couple of years, but it looked good next to its mate above.

He paused then, but finally added one more for luck. Luck! That was rich.

 _Broken Nose_.

If the old sod was watching, it might remind him to keep his promises. "You said he was for me," he told the chalk marks, as carefully scribed as any runes or sigils.

His chalk board didn't have any power, unless it was the innocent magic of wishing. No, it was pure superstition. But Albus… Albus might have been a meddler, but Aberforth was less certain these days that he had been a complete fool. Either way, he'd always been thorough.

There had to be a chance.

When he went to bed he left the door on the latch and a half-full bottle of Wizard's Finger on his rickety bedside table.

When he awoke, the bottle wasn't alone.


End file.
